Fractures
by lalalei
Summary: After the island, Yugi and the Pharaoh try their best to return to normal, but a year and a half of separation, anxiety, and crushing fear may leave fractures too deep to repair completely. Based on Bellamy-Taft's fanfic "Glass" and will make the most sense if you read that first.


The first days after are lost in their shared reconnection, each filling the other in on what had happened in the year and a half Yugi was separated from his other self. He wears the Puzzle to bed every night, the chain nearly tight enough to choke, and each morning upon waking the first thing he does is reach out to feel it and the Pharaoh there, the bracing weight and comforting presence now achingly unfamiliar.

As days stretch into weeks they share smaller things: the manga Pegasus had brought Yugi, the duel he and Kaiba shared, the aches that will never settle, and how Pegasus had tried, _really_ tried, to make him open up despite knowing it wasn't as easy as that.

He touches the Puzzle more often than before, counting and recounting the pieces to be sure it isn't shattered, that the Pharaoh is safe. The Pharaoh only occasionally implores him to stop; he asks why, once, and sees his other self is doing much the same, tracing and retracing their Soul Room corridor long after he's sure it won't vanish.

The Pharaoh's memories—so he says—were blurs of darkness and shadows and Yugi, the name and his lost presence eclipsing all else. Yugi suspects his other self isn't quite telling the truth, but next to his grandfather and friends, free, for the first time in ages, he's too relieved and happy to press for details.

When the details come, he wishes they hadn't, but holds onto his other self as best he can. Whatever happens, Yugi vows to never, _never_ let the Puzzle be taken again, and finds himself doing things he'd never seriously considered before—exercising daily with Tea, joining the swim team with Joey, learning how to shoot on the range with Tristan, sitting in for one of Ryou's ouija board sessions.

His grandfather and mother are concerned about the last two, but Yugi promises them that it's only a precaution. Just in case, Yugi says, he needs to run as fast and as far as he can, and do whatever's necessary to retrieve what's missing and precious to him.

* * *

His Soul Room is different now, he finds. The toys are dusty, weathered and worn, and the room itself is smaller, more compact, and it makes Yugi feel claustrophobic in ways it hadn't before. A photo of his friends and family hangs on every wall in different sizes and shapes, some askew and others perfect and pristine, and when he brushes a hand against one he's horrified to find the picture fading in and out. He wonders what it says about his mental state, and considers asking for help, but his gaze inevitably wanders to the hallway and the other door and Yugi's breath catches.

Eventually Yugi is brave enough to inspect the Pharaoh's Soul Room. The door is initially shut firmly, but at his request the Pharaoh acquiesces and sternly warns him not to touch anything inside. Yugi promises he won't, and when the weathered door opens his heart aches to find the labyrinth of the Pharaoh's heart is chaos. Impossibly, the maze is even more complex, and half the torches have gone out, providing no light or comfort. The walls shift and writhe and the floors never stand still, and deep scratches and gouges litter the corners, now laced with stains that are too similar to blood.

Deeply concerned, Yugi brushes a finger against one and catches a flash of memory, of hands clawing at the floor desperately as biting, icy shadows close in. The Pharaoh's shattered, harsh words fall out in fractures and fragments and are a blur of noise, but Yugi is still able to understand his pleas.

_letmeout letusout releaseme releasethePuzzle ___curseyouPegasus iwillshowyounomercyforwhatyouhavedone_ letYugibealright pleaseletYugibealright letmeout pleaseletmeout pleaseletmeout pleasepleasepleasePLEASE_

He never dares to try again, and when the Pharaoh meets him halfway, in their hallway all he can do is shake his head and choke back the tears that won't come. Yugi knows without being told that after years of life, of living, of friends and memories of friends, being forcibly shattered and flung into the abyss of nothing was infinitely worse than the Pharaoh's long amnesiac wait.

* * *

While before Yugi tended to let the Pharaoh out before and after school, the post-Pegasus days have them trading places much more often. The Pharaoh drinks in everyone's stories, the life of the City of Domino in all its sorrows and joys, and his frantic heartbeat is soothed when the others recognize him and give a friendly wave. Yugi knows he needs everyone, and always will, but he knows the Pharaoh needs everyone even more right now, and the attention from his teachers and the students is, frankly, overwhelming.

Ceding control is a comfort when he needs to be alone as much as the Pharaoh needs to be _out_, and his only request is please, no Mind Crushes. When Joey and Tristan laugh at the joke it's almost like things are the same, until the crowds swarm them too, with Duke getting lost in the sea of faces.

* * *

He doesn't know how any of them stayed sane. Maybe they didn't.

* * *

The best days are like he remembers: his grandpa snoring in the other room, the game shop a bustle of activity, the Puzzle around his neck and the Pharaoh reassuring at his side. He had been nearly crushed by the weight of the hug Grandpa had given him when he returned, though the space between them has lessened considerably since. Yugi understands, because he's afraid to let anything stay out of sight for too long, for fear it will slip away unnoticed and never return.

The normal days are when he wakes restlessly, sometimes calling for his friends, or the Pharaoh, or his family, before the new reality sets in and he realizes he's home. Yugi always feels a mix of awkwardness and profound relief upon the realization, and he gets the feeling everyone else does too. (His father had dropped everything to see him only once before heading off again, and he idly wonders if Ryou had a similar experience. He hopes he didn't.)

The worst days are when he's sure he's dreaming. The weight around his neck is from when Pegasus was choking him, the twinkle in his eyes is long-gone, worse even than before he had friends, and meek, quiet Yugi is willing to hurt whatever's in his way to get a sense of normalcy back. On the island he had helped burn it down to get them home, aided Tea in knocking out a guard to free Duke, and clawed Kaiba's hands to reach the safe where the Puzzle and Pharaoh waited. He'd always abhorred physical violence, and still does, but he knows now that even that self-imposed rule would bend if the conditions were right. Sometimes, in the night, Yugi fears what he would be willing to do if it came to it.

* * *

The trip to Egypt has been postponed indefinitely; neither is sure it will ever come. Yugi is sure that while it won't stop Ryou's spirit from scheming, or any other mastermind from doing their best to end things, whatever comes next will be a sure relief from the island and the castle and never knowing what to expect on any given day. Even the routines they all went through had an edge to them—how couldn't they, when one false move could get everyone you knew killed? Yugi reflects on the ill-fated plan to build a raft, and counts himself lucky that Pegasus was in a forgiving mood. If he wasn't, he doubts he would ever forgive himself.

At school Ryou and Yugi share awkward glances. He's sure the other boy's spirit is already planning ways to work the situation to his advantage, and Ryou, for his part, doesn't refute it. He tells Yugi bits and pieces of what happened on the island, but when Yugi asks _why_ the straitjacket, _why_ the guards, what _happened_ to you, Ryou stays silent.

Yugi knows it must have been horrible and accepts his silence, but he can't stop the hot flare of envy that Ryou, so opposed to everything the spirit stood for, was still able to see and hear his other half. From what he's seen and heard they even seem to be getting along, and the spirit isn't deliberately sabotaging Ryou anymore—at least, not as much as he used to. He supposes that's one good thing that came of this mess.

When Bakura does show, his only contribution is to look at the Pharaoh, sneer, and make a crude comment about how attached they've become lately. Which pair, Yugi isn't sure, and the spirit vanishes before he thinks to ask. It's far too late in the night when he realizes the spirit was making a joke of things, and he wonders how much the experience changed _him_, too.

* * *

None of them are sure where Kaiba and Mokuba went. They all have theories, some lighter than others, but Yugi is sure that wherever they are the Kaiba brothers are healing and, if not okay, doing the best they can. The Pharaoh hopes his rival can put the past behind him, and expresses hope that his heart is strong enough to weather the proverbial storm. When things settle, whenever that may be, the two of them hope for another duel—to settle a rivalry, to catch up with each other, and, Yugi privately hopes, for fun.

Joey isn't sure Kaiba could ever have fun with someone that isn't Mokuba, but Yugi remains hopeful nonetheless. He finds himself hoping for the best in everything even more now that he's had a glimpse of what the worst can be, and he hopes above all else that one day Pegasus's shadow will be eclipsed by a wellspring of happiness and love.

Yugi hopes one day he'll get good enough at lying to fool himself.

* * *

One night his rest is uneasy, sleep impossible. When he finally falls asleep, he's back in the castle, staring out the window as frost covers the pane. Gentle fingers ruffle his hair and a too-knowing eye slips into his mind as easy as the shared link, and Pegasus's voice fills his ears. "Are we doing any better today, Yugi-boy? Your breakfast is hot and waiting, and that manga you liked has released a new volume; are you still interested?"

His dream-self says nothing, the breakfast scatters on the floor, and Pegasus's face changes in an instant from benefactor to tyrant. "If you won't respond to my kindness, dear boy, I can take it all away, just like how you lot took what mattered most to me."

That gets a reaction from him, and in his dreams Yugi pleads for it to stop, to drop the act, to please let him see the Pharaoh just once before he loses what's left of his mind.

To his surprise, his request is granted. Pegasus brings in the Puzzle, still shattered, and his heart alights with hope—before the fireplace is lit and Pegasus's voice says words that should not, cannot, be happening.

"You killed my hope, Yugi-boy; you and your friends kept my Cecelia in her grave. Wouldn't your Pharaoh agree it's proper to return the favor?"

Guards hold him back as Yugi kicks and screams as the pieces are fed, one by one, into the fire. He wrenches free and leaps for the Puzzle, but the fires are too hot and spreading, and he's quickly overcome.

As the flames lick at the room, dissolving it, the inhabitants, and the Millennium Puzzle itself, all he can see before he wakes is the eye in the center of the Puzzle staring accusingly. It almost matches Pegasus's eye.

Upon waking Yugi clutches the Puzzle tight enough to burn, a jagged edge cutting his hand. His blood mingles with the gold, seeping into the cracks. He tries to wipe it off but it's sunk too deeply, and he leaves it, supposing that, all things considered, it's appropriate.

The Pharaoh doesn't comment on it, though he does mention that the scent of roses permeates his brain; Pegasus had also kept a photo of his wife in the safe, along with her treasured flowers. He doubts it will ever leave, and a small smile crosses Yugi's lips even as he thinks he'll never stand the sight or smell of roses again.

As the Pharaoh keeps his secrets, so Yugi keeps his secrets. Some are small; some are big. Tonight's secret is truer than he'd admit.

His secret is this: He can hear Pegasus's voice, clear as water and bright as day. Not taunting, not angry, but a simple admission of fact.

_You and I are two of a kind, Yugi-boy. We both know how far we'd go when half of our soul is missing._


End file.
